don't look back in anger
by ClaireLilyP
Summary: It all had started with Lydia's elopement, and then came the illness. Now, a heavy shadow loomed on the future. But there was a hope, even if it hardly offered an even, joyful path to tread.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _this story is AU, kind of forced marriage scenario. and while i find the whole concept silly, i really love it and the angst it entails. mostly beta'd by kind putitbriefly, who had to put up with ahistorical and grammatical horrors, especially with my stubborn confusion for countable and uncountable nouns. currently WIP. rated E for explicit sexual content. i would love to hear your thoughts!_

* * *

"My dear Lizzy."

"Papa?"

"What are you reading, dear?"

"The Scriptures."

"How grave you have become, my child."

She closed the volume and abandoned it on the chair, walking to the large bed in the middle of the room. Standing there, eyes casted downwards on her father's figure, she simply repeated, "Yes, Papa?"

"The Gardiners shall be here in less than a week. It has been days since they sent news—they have not written, haven't they?" When Elizabeth shook her head, he sighed. "They shall bring news, if there are any, anyway."

"Yes."

"And you shall, dear, give me a faithful account of everything that is discussed in my absence. You know I can hardly trust your mother with such matters. Will you do that, Lizzy?"

"Of course."

"You are such a good girl, my child."

It was time for repose; even in the dimness of the evening, she could see his eyes were heavy, weary. Elizabeth doused the candles and left the room, leaving her father with a kiss on his grey brow. She closed the door quietly and leaned against it.

 _Stillness._

Stillness was the best her father could afford. Since May, he had been bedridden and it was no long before any hope for improvement had vanished. _His heart and body are most likely to become weaker and weaker,_ the physician had said.

"Lizzy?"

Her mind snapped back to reality. "Jane."

"Are you well?" she asked, with a frown. "Is Papa… ?"

"He is well. Perhaps a bit better than usual, I daresay, but is now asleep. How is Mamma?"

"Resting abed. She says now that my uncle is to visit, she feels better."

It seemed that the Gardiners' visit would do good on everyone's spirits. "Papa is in a great need of peace, and Mamma's fussing and worrying is only taxing on him."

In their chambers, quietude reigned.

The soft cotton of the nightgown took tension away from the body, but Elizabeth found herself exhausted. She climbed on the bed, and sat against the headboard. She slid her toes under the covers and sighed. At her side, Jane was silent. "Are you tired, my dear?"

"Oh, yes, I am," she replied, a wan smile on her lips. "But it is so good to be of help."

Tending their parents was their priority. Days—long, busy, hard days—felt heavy when night came, leaving every inhabitant in Longbourn exhausted. Even Jane's beauty had not been spared. Her ethereal beauty had turned into a more human weariness, with dark spots under eyes and new lines on her brow.

Often Elizabeth found dull, shiny eyes looking at her, seeking something; a strength, she supposed, her sister could not find in her own heart. How bleak it was! Elizabeth shook her head. "Indeed, we are not idle! And you, dear sister, have grown such a bravery to deal with Mamma's distress every day, I would trouble myself to worry about _your_ nerves!"

Jane laughed softly.

The candles, already weak, were soon put out. Summer had come between concerns and disgrace, and was quickly fading, frosty whispers of Autumn rising chilling the wind. The silver, cold moonlight weakly filtered through windows. Underneath the quilts and sheets, there was the warmth of a promise for rest. Elizabeth pressed her cheek in the pillow, her eyes fluttering close.

"Lizzy," Jane called, tone low. "Lizzy, do you believe Lydia lives?"

In the stillness of the night, Elizabeth could only say, "Yes, I do believe so."

* * *

Mary, some days after, called Elizabeth out her father's sickroom.

"Aunt wishes to talk to you, Lizzy. I can keep Papa company."

That day, the Gardiners had arrived in the morning, but Elizabeth had hardly the occasion to greet them properly. Mr. Bennet had taken a slight fever. She had been busier and more anxious than usual. "He is now resting, Mary. Pray, let him, for he is unwell."

In the drawing-room, Mrs. Gardiner awaited with tea and cakes. Seeing Elizabeth, she stood and stretched her hands to her. "Oh, my dear, you are here!"

Elizabeth clasped her hands. "Where is my uncle?"

"Talking with you mother." She kissed her cheek. "He is so worried about her."

"Yes, Mamma is unfortunately unwell. But, aunt, pray tell, do you bring any news?"

"No, dear, we have no good news to bring—rather, the circumstance of your sister appear to be the same as the last time I wrote to you. Your uncle could not locate Lydia. But Colonel Forster is doing his best to discover Mr. Wickham's whereabouts."

Elizabeth sat on the sofa with a sigh. Mr. Bennet was destined to be disappointed, as she was, if not more.

Mrs. Gardiner's hand squeezed hers. "And how are you, Lizzy?"

"I am well. As well as one can be in such dire a times."

"You should come to stay with us. The children should like very much to have your company. Your mind may find some peace away from Longbourn."

It was impossible, Elizabeth knew, to leave Longbourn to hide to pursue distractions. Anxiety and worry would follow her. "I will think about it."

"Promise you will! You deserve some rest. And a diversion in company may only do good on your spirits. Oh, if only you had come with us to visit the north! How beneficial would that had been for you!"

When her father's health had begun to crumble, Elizabeth had opted to remain at Longbourn and give up the tour in the north. As noble and wise the choice had been, it had been a painful one to make. With bitterness and regret she had received long letters about the wilderness of Derbyshire, about the beauty of Matlock, and the elegance of Chatsworth. But then, came a whole letter dedicated to Pemberley, and to its master, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. The impressions of goodness had quickly turned in praises, and praises into esteem. Regrettably, the acquaintance was short. They had abandoned Derbyshire once news of Lydia's elopement had come.

The whole affair seemed just _so odd_ to Elizabeth.

"You know," her aunt began, "Mr. Darcy called on us when he returned to town. And he invited us to dine at his townhouse—your uncle, I suspect, found a new friend in the gentleman."

"A _friend_?" Elizabeth squinted at her aunt. "You and uncle dined with him?"

"Yes," an amused Mrs. Gardiner replied. "Why would we not? He is an amiable and polite man, I say. I believe he took a liking for your uncle—they spent half of the evening talking about the mines of Derbyshire. And they share a passion for fishing! Oh, do not look at me so, dear! You have erred in your judgement of his character, I daresay!"

Elizabeth had a hard time believing it. That she had made mistakes in her judgement, she admitted. But Mr. Darcy— _amiable_ , polite and kind Mr. Darcy, to her relatives, of all people! A laugh bubbled on her lips. " _You_ are in danger to paint him a in a false light, aunt!"

"Nonsense, Lizzy, I believe I do him justice, for he is not as wicked and unfeeling as you had once described him to be. He enquired about you and your family, you know. And he was genuinely grieved in learning about your burdens."

"Aunt!" Elizabeth choked out. "Aunt, you—you told _him_?"

"I did. He heartily wanted to know how your family fared. He knew nothing about your father's illness. And your uncle decided to account him about Lydia's folly—the way we left Lambton, without taking leave of him, was quite rude. Lizzy, your uncle does trust him, you need not to trouble yourself over it. He swore us secrecy on the matter."

Elizabeth swallowed. She did not particularly cared about Darcy's opinion. He was _still_ the proud man who had ruined Jane's happiness. He _had_ disrespected her and her family. The Gardiners liked him well, but they were all too ignorant of his actions and his ways. They did not truly understand how disagreeable he might be.

And—oh, the humiliation! He _must_ be congratulating himself for the narrow escape from a wretched fate, from such a disgracing connection!

"Why such a grim face, Lizzy?"

"Oh, Aunt! If you only knew! Mr. Darcy, being kind to you! Him, being grieved by our disgrace! It cannot be possible!"

Mrs. Gardiner frowned.

Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip. "I cannot bring myself to believe he is earnestly pained by our misfortune… such feelings for my family, whom he thinks so beneath himself. He cannot have charitable feelings for someone who rejected his suit so fiercely and scorned him—"

Mrs. Gardiner turned to her with wide eyes. "Lizzy?"

Had Elizabeth been in a lighter mood, she might have delighted into the absurdity of it all. But laughter would not come. Instead, bitter sighs rose from her throat. "When I visited Charlotte and Mr. Collins in Kent in the spring…"

* * *

The Gardiners' presence, as predicted, was a solace to Longbourn's wounded souls.

Mrs. Bennet found the reassurances of her younger brother fortifying enough to emerge from her apartments. Kitty followed her aunt about, delighting in the tales from town. Mary seemed serene, now that more peace reigned in the house.

Though Mr. Bennet was not entirely recovered from his fever, Mr. Gardiner spent a lot of time in his sickroom, keeping him company with assurances of a better future.

The day before their departure, Mrs. Gardiner reached out to poor Jane. "I already told Lizzy that she is welcome to stay with us in town when she likes. The invitation, of course, is extended to you, too."

Jane's eyes lighted up, a glimmer of an old brightness. "I would be delighted!" she replied, but halted when Elizabeth smiled at her. "I would be happy, yes, thank you, aunt—but I fear it shall not be in the near future. We are quite busy."

"Nonsense," Mr. Gardiner interjected. "Pray come whenever you wish, even if you intend to stay for a short period of time."

Mrs. Bennet gave a loud sigh. "My dear Jane is such a dear child! Her help will be terribly missed, were she to decide to leave us! Oh, but how my dear girls need rest!"

"I agree." Mrs. Gardiner nodded. "Your children are in great need for diversions, I think."

Elizabeth did not miss the fleeting light breaking on Jane's face, nor her eyes clouding scant seconds later. How she hated it! Jane had such a tiring year—first a heartbreak, then _all_ of this! "Jane," Elizabeth called her and reached for her hand. "Mamma is feeling better now, therefore you may go to London whenever you choose!"

The smile Elizabeth won in return was not quite the familiar smile of an angelic being, _but_ it was genuine and joyful enough. If only there would be a chance to go back to last year! Their life had been a flurry of excitement and novelties—a bit too innocent and entirely too naive, but light and bright, like the golden sunshine of summer days.

Even the thought of Mr. Darcy being proud and disagreeable in Hertfordshire was a dear memory now. _Even_ his letter, token of her fallacy and mean to shame her, was a dear possession—tokens of those halcyon days, now so precious and distant.

And so, Elizabeth turned to Jane with a brilliant smile.

* * *

The following day, after breakfast, the Gardiners were ready to leave Longbourn with trunks packed in the hall, and a carriage awaiting in the lawn. In the drawing-room, Mrs. Gardiner kept company to her mother and the sisters, while Elizabeth stood in front of the closed door of her father's sickroom.

Her uncle came out with a grim expression, but sobered when he noticed Elizabeth. "Lizzy. I had the intention to come to speak with you."

"I am here. How is Papa?"

"Weak," was the brutal reply. "But, pray come, I need to talk to you alone before we leave."

He led her to the bottom of the hallway, away from the sickroom and the stairwell, the voices of the ladies only a weak echo from the ground floor. Elizabeth peered at him with curious eyes. "Uncle, you must be aware of the frightening expression of your countenance."

"My dear," he said, eyes softening, "I need to address you with something I have discussed with your aunt."

"I think Jane should be the one to join you to town—"

"I beg your pardon, but I mean to speak of another matter. Your Aunt informed me about a rather intimate talk you had days ago."

Her brow furrowed. "Indeed?"

"Lizzy," her name rolled off his lips as if it were a heavy burden, "your father's health is not improving. The future is grim for your family—and for you, too."

Her stomach twisted in agony, but Elizabeth plastered a smile. "I should like to keep hearing your endless praises of a stranger, rather than this."

Mrs. Gardiner did not heed her lightness. "You must mind your future."

"I would be quite a foolish creature if I did not, but—"

"You shall marry, someday," Mr. Gardiner interjected, an unusual gravity in his tone. "But Lydia's actions put your future in jeopardy. It would be unthinkable for you or any of your sisters to hope for a match with respectable gentlemen. Many men of my acquaintance are good, sensible men. But their status is not gentle. I know not if this is what you aspire to."

Elizabeth swallowed, words dying in her throat. Necessity called for desperate measures. She knew how grim her prospects were.

"But, there may be a hope for you, my dear Lizzy. Marianne was right; there is a gentleman that may be a solid hope for your future."

Hushed words faded in the dead, cold silence of astonishment. Elizabeth forgot about her father, about Lydia, about the grey clouds casting a shadow on the future.

"He may be prevailed upon a renewal of his addresses."

The echoes of her uncle's speech would not leave her, not even the following days. The words weighted on her shoulders, haunting, tearing at her conscience and heart, whispering in her ear in the daylight, and screaming in her mind at night.

"I _beg_ of you, Lizzy, think about this. It is a risk worth taking. Send me a word as soon as you come to a decision and I'll be glad to think of the rest. I will go to him at once and talk to him, were you to find yourself equal to this arrangement."

* * *

Outside, the black and starless night stretched to no end. It invaded the room. The bedchamber was chilly and hollow, the dim flame of the candle barely breaking through the dark.

On the large bed, Elizabeth held a sobbing Jane.

"What shall we do, Lizzy?" Jane's tears were falling, warm, soiling the cotton of her nightgown. "What shall be of us?"

Her fingers hooked in golden waves, pressing her sister's head closer against her shoulder. Lord's Mercy, Elizabeth had no assurances to offer her—not this time. What was left to do was to embrace her closer and shut her eyes tightly.

That day, Papa had taken ill—again—and the fever had returned, leaving him weaker body and spirit, weaker than he had ever been. Jane had been so affected, she had crumbled into sobs and hiccups as soon as the sun had set.

"Jane," Elizabeth pressed a light kiss against her brow. "Jane, dear, you ought to rest now."

It was only one hour later that Jane finally managed to find some sleep. Not before more tears, more words about Longbourn, about Kitty, Mary and Mamma. About Lydia.

Careful not to disturb her, Elizabeth slipped out the bed.

She ignored the mad pounding of her heart against her ribcage. She ignored the tremble of her legs. She ignored the black of the night.

It was with no little difficulty she wrote down the note. Quivering fingers gripped the pen, as the weak, silver light of the moon bared the ink to her burning, watery eyes.

 _Dear Aunt,_

 _Pray inform my uncle that is my intention to give my consent to a marriage with Mr. Darcy. Were he to agree to to this scheme, we shall be engaged at once._

 _EB_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** my bother gave me his old ps3. I found my old FFVII game on it, an the majority of my free time has been devoted to that—i am trying to beat the game, avenging my younger self who gave up at the embarrassing point of the temple of ancients. however, i bred a golden chocobo and named him darcy! he is really sweet, useful and always wins races at the gold saucer (s rank!). yay for good boy darcy!

again, beta'd by putitbriefly. i am forgetting english as days go by.

* * *

"Mr. Darcy, what an unexpected surprise."

When the rhythmic sound of the carriage wheels had come, all the inhabitants of the household—the ones blessed with ignorance—had been shaken with surprise.

In a hazy silence, the ladies had spied on the door of the coach opening, and the occupant striding in the lawn.

Mrs. Bennet had cried out in surprise.

Elizabeth had flinched.

And now there he was, clad in dark garments and grave silence, standing high and proud before the general astonishment.

He would not move a muscle from his place at the threshold. With an acknowledging bow to Mrs. Bennet, he said, "Mrs. Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you and your daughters again."

"Likewise, sir," replied Mrs. Bennet, eyebrow still lifted in puzzlement. "Shall I call for refreshments? Pray, do come in and sit with us, sir."

"I thank you heartily for your hospitality, madam, but there's no need for tea. Please, accept my best wishes for your husband's health. Your brother informed me of his illness."

Mrs. Bennet, now that her composure seemed returned, thanked him and invited him one more time. When he refused again, her antipathy for him was dangerously close to surfacing. "If you do not intend to sit with us, sir, pray, what could you ever need?"

"I have come to speak with Miss Elizabeth, madam."

Under the coldness shade of the grey of those eyes, Elizabeth nodded. It was with no little surprise that Mrs. Bennet granted the permission, and silent questions weighed on her shoulders with little mercy. But, chin raised up in the air, Elizabeth went to him.

"Come, Mr. Darcy, let us take a turn about the garden. Our Lord has graced us with fine weather to-day."

* * *

Mr. Darcy had not much changed.

His features were tensed with cold, grave lines. The ice in his gaze proved his feelings were not as cordial as her aunt had wished them to be. A proud, jilted suitor indeed. What a pleasure to be correct!

His dark, tall figure was in perfect contrast with the bright daylight—daunting, even. But Elizabeth was in no habit to be intimidated. "This way, sir. We shall not be disturbed."

When they turned a corner that lead to a narrow path to a decaying shrubbery, he spoke. "I trust my presence cannot be a surprise to you."

"No, sir. My family may be curious about it, but I have long been informed of your arrival."

"Then, let us discuss the core of this matter, madam. Allow me to ask if your uncle is to be trusted. Did you agree to enter into a marriage with me?"

Elizabeth's steps came to a halt. "My uncle is a honest man, Mr. Darcy. He did not make sport of you. He is in earnest."

"And _you_? Are you making sport of me?"

"I would never dare, sir."

"Then, are you willing to marry me, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, I am."

He strode away.

It was Elizabeth, this time, who was forced to follow.

"I shall remind you," he said, "I have _yet_ to form a decision regarding your uncle's proposal."

Elizabeth ventured a glance to his strong profile. The weight of her duty commanded disappointment. "I thought your presence here to-day was a token of a favourable answer."

"On the contrary, my intention in coming here is to _make_ my decision. I hardly expected to see you again after our last meeting."

"As you see, present circumstances defied our expectations. Pray, what is your decision based upon?"

"Many factors. Tell me, how did I become a candidate for a husband when I was deemed the _last man_ in the world suitable for this role?"

"Mr. Darcy, I may have been violent in the rejection of your suit—but then, I have been misled about your character by deception. I admit my choice of words was poor; however, your proposal was an offence to my character and my family. I reacted accordingly, though with a regrettable lack of finesse."

"This hardly answers my question," he observed, tone as sharp as the blade of a knife. "And if it is meant to be an apology for your uncharitable words, allow me to say it is badly put."

 _His_ own charitable words sprang to her mind. In April, he had ended his letter with kind words. Now, he seemed fixated in tormenting her only. Quite uncharitable from his part, too. "Then, you _know_ the reason behind my change of opinion."

"Although spurred by noble intentions, your reason is purely based on a material ground."

"Thank you for your commendable words, sir."

He ignored her lightness. "Your uncle assured me you would be a good wife to me. Can you confirm it?"

Her eyebrow raised in disdain. "Do you believe me incapable of being a good wife to you?"

"I believe," he bit back, "you are genuinely ignorant of what you are agreeing to."

"I am _well_ aware of what my decision entails. Mr. Darcy, whatever you think of me, I can assure you I will not behave as a wayward, as a savage, on purpose. I am perfectly able to behave— _to be_ —a good wife."

"Very well. If you are confident on yourself regarding that score, I shall believe you. In the possibility of a match between us, you must know I expect you to be the mistress of my estate in Derbyshire and of my residence in town. And, of course, you shall get acquainted with highest circles of society and must learn how to move amongst them."

Elizabeth bit her lips, but that did not prevent her from uttering, "Because a poor country girl indeed must _learn_ the ways of polite society."

"In town, the circles whose station of life equals to mine are not the same as the society found here in Hertfordshire. There is a difference, but I trust you already know that. Were we to be wedded—suddenly and hastily—there would be gossip. People would want to get acquainted with you, they would seek your society. And while you may find friends, there would be also people disapproving of you. You would not be welcomed immediately, and not by all those you encounter."

"I know," Elizabeth muttered. But was it true? Or was he simply determined to daunt her? Would people really risk to misbehave around the wife of the Almighty Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? She knew not, but courage, that was something she did not lack. "Why, sir, are you trying to intimidate me?"

"My intention was to give a honest account of what to expect, so I must speak frankly. I fully expect you to fulfill your duties. I am pained to hurt your sensibilities, but my fortune needs an heir. You _must_ be aware of that too."

 _Hurt sensibilities_ were nothing compared to indignation. "As I said, Mr. Darcy, I am well aware of what I am agreeing to."

This time, when his pace picked up again, she was in no hurry to follow. That question had been no less an insult than his previous remarks. Did he truly believe her so naive and ignorant? Or worse, did he really think so little of her, she would not be faithful to her oath made before God and the law? "Do you have any more questions?"

"No, that shall suffice." Darcy seemed surprised at the loss of her presence at his side. In a fluid, graceful movement, he turned to her. "Do _you_ have any questions for me?"

"You are aware of your part in this contract. You would provide for my family when necessity comes."

"Yes."

"Very well." She stared at at him—him, all pride and coldness—and lifted her chin. "But, I beg you to be as honest and fair as I have been to you and answer my question. Will _you_ be a good husband to me?"

For a fleeting moment, stony eyes and marble features softened. "I cannot promise you a faultless husband, as I cannot guarantee you a happy union." Quietly, he added, "I cannot even promise I will _be_ your husband, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth froze.

Was _he_ rejecting her?

In spite of the sunlight coming through the thick limbs of the trees, she shivered. The autumn wind was chilly. Her fingers, free from angry fists, trembled.

But Darcy's rich, low tone cut through her numbness: "I shall ask one more time—are you willing to marry me?"

The _yes_ falling from her lips was too hollow to be a proper answer.

Elizabeth started when his fingers closed around her chin. Her face tilted upwards, she found the frost grey of his eyes right before her. "Pray, Miss Bennet, have care to look joyful. You have just secured a wealthy husband."

With that, he pressed his mouth to hers, claiming her as his own.

Deed done, he tore away from her as if burned. Stepping back, he said, "We have much more to discuss. For now, however, go back home and inform your family. I ask you to be discreet about it, especially with your neighbours."

Elizabeth stood frozen as he spun on his heels and walked away.

"I shall return in few days."

* * *

Elizabeth had briefly thought about making a grand entrance in Longbourn to announce that the family was safe from any further ruination, but then reconsidered. Her heart twisted in her chest. How odd this event should bring her such little joy.

But it was done, and done for the best.

A betrothal, a kiss stolen under the leafy, picturesque trees, a lover's promise to return. It was the material of fairy tales. But the cruel irony of the truth hidden behind it painted a picture which was hardly sentimental.

Once inside the house, curious looks welcomed her. Mrs. Bennet was the first to voice the questions.

Kitty followed with a, "What did that pompous man want, Lizzy?"

Even Mary seemed to be interested in that peculiar visit. Jane, however, started at her, no words or questions on her lips.

It was only natural that the announcement eventually—inevitably—came: "I am engaged to be wed to Mr. Darcy."

Astonishment silenced the ladies.

Mrs. Bennet came up to Elizabeth and pulled her in a big hug. Then, her cry of joy arose among the walls of Longbourn. "Oh, my dear, dearest child! Bless you! You have been so sly, you—and is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! How rich and how great you will be! You are saving us all—! _Mr. Darcy_!"

Elizabeth patted her mother's back as more praises fell on her. At Kitty's disbelief, she could only confirm it, again and again, that yes, she was to be married.

And then, Elizabeth dashed away to the hallway, with Jane, Kitty and Mrs. Bennet trailing after her. Her mother's raptures went on. "I am so pleased—so happy. I can think of nothing else! Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! It is as good as a Lord! And a special licence! You must and shall be married by a special licence."

Elizabeth's steps would not falter. She reached the second floor. "Mr. Darcy and I have yet to discuss these details."

"Oh, my sweet Lizzy—!"

"Mamma," she bid, patience running thin. "I must ask you—and my sisters—to be discreet about this matter. Mr. Darcy sees it fit to be so."

"Oh, I should be very glad to respect dear Mr. Darcy's wishes, my dear!"

"Lizzy!" Kitty called, delighted. "Did he get on his knee when he proposed?"

The much acclaimed lady came to an abrupt halt once in front Mr. Bennet's room. She spun on her heels. "Papa is likely resting now. I wish to see if he is doing a any better than this morning. I beg your pardon."

While, oddly, Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were eager to let her go, Jane's pale hand closed around her arm and held her tightly. "Lizzy," she called with no little agitation, "Lizzy what—what is the meaning of this? What are you doing, dear?"

Elizabeth swallowed. "My uncle suggested that a marriage with Mr. Darcy may be the best choice for _my_ future. Uncle Gardiner proposed agreement to Mr. Darcy and he came to visit in order to have some clarification."

"Uncle Gardiner suggested this… ?"

"Yes. And I willingly took part in it. Mr. Darcy is—he, too, is _equal_ to it. And so, we shall be wed."

"Oh, _Lizzy._ "

"Jane, I wish to go to Papa now."

Dismayed, Jane let go of her arm. She nodded, then tried a smile—but it formed under so much distress, it could not bring light to her dull eyes.

Elizabeth dashed to the sickroom.

But her mother's delighted voice still reached her: "Such a charming man! So handsome! so tall! I shall apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it! Oh, dear Lizzy—such a sly, good girl, my child!"


End file.
